


Submit for Approval

by Harleigh138



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Power Play, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harleigh138/pseuds/Harleigh138
Summary: Lieutenant Grimshaw has a secret that she can't afford others to find out yet when a new higher up arrives onboard the ship, she finds herself in an inescapable position.I found this gem hiding in my old work. I brushed it off and polished it a bit before laying it to rest here. Not sure if I'll pick it up again someday or not.





	Submit for Approval

It had been quite some time since she had gotten a tattoo, actually ever since she entered the Imperial Navy she had refrained from adding anything to her living canvas, for fear of anyone finding out, particularly her higher ups. Tattoo’s were strictly against regulation, and any officer with one was ‘decommissioned’ or fired. Besides it didn’t help that the previous tattoo she received had gotten slightly infected, and thus messed up the ink around her thigh. 

This morning’s meeting had the other lieutenants on edge but it left her with a bland feeling, it was simply the captain talking about the same protocol as usual before battle, she focused instead on the possibility of expanding her body art. It wasn’t something she had given thought to in the past but now that she knew how to cover them up for work it didn’t bother her nearly as bad. She had new private quarters with a shower so it wasn’t as if she was a cadet again, taking chances to shower in the community bathrooms at 3 AM and hoping no one would report her.

She was interrupted as the ship’s captain stepped aside for another man to step up in front of the crew. She felt her heart stop momentarily as his eyes scanned the crowd. She had heard of the stories that preceded Commodore Thrawn. He was stirring up a lot of mixed feelings from the outer rim to Coruscant, and she could tell why. Commodore Thrawn was the first non-human to rise in the ranks of the Imperial Navy like he had, and looking around at her fellow lieutenants, they weren’t pleased. It wasn’t as if he was a bad looking person, quite the contrary. But she still had a shiver run down her spine as his red eyes settled on her for a mere half second.

“I thank you captain,” Thrawn said, “I will be your commanding officer on your mission to Botajef.” His voice was low, quiet and nearly a whisper into the microphone. His voice was as rich and modulated, he had a constant air of confidence about him, and it rang out in each syllable of his hushed tones. She stood drinking in Commodore Thrawn's dreamy voice, but not necessarily taking in his words, before she realized it he had ordered everyone to prepare the station to be on standby. Still dazed she stared for a moment longer before moving on to her post.  
Most of the lieutenants faces were strained, as though it was an effort to listen. Many had heat leaving their faces in disgust, except one. She had a rather high heat level in her cheeks, indicating not a constant state of understanding but one of admiration. 

She was overseer of the level four armory for today, usually she would help with supply in the cargo hold, but the prior lieutenant had a recent demotion. An attack yesterday had left the armory unscathed aside from the door where rebel enemies had tried their luck to smash through. 

First thing was first, the floors were filthy, while on standby the least that her crew could do was scrub what needed to be done first. She pointed several of them in the right direction towards a mop and soapy water before joining them. That was one of the few things that lieutenants hardly did - was help their crew together, she didn’t mind. It made the work go faster than her standing around.

By the time that the crew had created a shine with the floors from mopping and waxing, she had worked up a sweat. Hopefully this would aid them when the battle begun. She at least wouldn’t be distracted by the dust. She was the only one paying attention to when the ship’s captain announced that every station had to be battle ready in fourteen hours. She found the rest of the crew had hushed and gathered around the broken door frame.

“Look, it’s him.” One of her crewmen hissed as they leaned out the nearby doorway. It didn’t take much to distract this crew. She stifled a sigh before clearing her throat.

“Let’s get back to the task at hand gentlemen.” Yet this did not yield their short attention spans. She pushed through the mob out into the hallway, but not before she slipped on the waxed floor. She heard the sound of a tight rip of fabric and her uniform’s side had been undone by a jagged edge of the doorway. Quickly she put a hand to the seam, feeling a cool rush of air up her side. Her tattoo would be exposed if she didn’t act quick enough. 

“Lieutenant Grimshaw.” The voice made her blood run cold. She glanced down the hall to find Commodore Thrawn walking towards her.

While the door hatch was sharp enough to rip the uniform, it left no wounds or scrapes. The only reason to clutch her side was for two reasons: modesty or something else to hide.

“Yes sir. Just a fall sir. I’ll need a moment to change before preparing the armory for battle.”

“I see.” Thrawn said, watching her rise on her feet. She noticed his gaze fall to her ripped side seam.

“If you’ll excuse me-”

“Lieutenant, Tetanus will set in if you’ve scraped yourself on that doorway. The infirmary is more than ready to receive you,” he suggested. 

Her eyes narrowed and her hand clutched the torn uniform at her side, suspicion settling in her mind, and a blush settling in her cheeks.

“No sir, I won’t need to visit the infirmary, thank you for your concern.”

“Oh it is not concern that I show. If you’re...what’s the word?”

“...uninjured?”

“If you are uninjured, may I have a word in private?” Thawn said, opening the door to an empty office beside him. She let a short sign escape her. Not good.

She went through the doorway, knowing her crew as well as the eyes of the Commodore where upon her. She stood at attention, keeping on arm over the open seam, and she couldn’t help but flinch as the door slid shut behind Thrawn.

“Lieutenant Grimshaw are you aware that Section Three, Paragraph twenty-seven of the Imperial Naval rule book, any and all body art and brands are not permitted on Navy personnel. Failure to comply with the established rule is a violation of uniform policy and subject to disciplinary action to include removal or expulsion from services.”

“I’m well aware sir. I had these prior to entering the naval forces, Over the years I’ve become skilled at hiding them...until today that is.”

“In what ways?”

“Wh- why ask? How does it benefit you to know?”

“The reasons are twofold, while I learn another method of disguise I also find out why one of my crew members decides that entering into the Imperial Navy was an important enough decision before removing their tattoos.”

“Do you mean to insinuate that I’m not loyal to the Empire?” she caught her tone before she became too belligerent. “-Commodore Thrawn.”

“Not at all. I only wish to admire your artwork.”

“...before firing me. Right?”

“I am not unreasonable. Nor am I uncultured when it comes to these things. Show me and I will make the decision.”

The musculature of her throat tightens briefly. There is an enhanced infrared glow from her face, then a slow building heat below her waist. Her grip tightens on the ripped fabric. 

“It is not small. It spans over my torso and thigh,” she said, hesitating again. Waiting for his reply. “This includes my chest, sir.”

Her tone is quiet and her voice is clipped sharply at the end. Her face radiates extra heat and the muscles beneath her tunic show stiffness. She strains to hold something else back.

“As I said,” she could barely see the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth “I am not uncultured when it comes to these things.”

“Very well.” If it meant the possibility of a longer stay in the Imperial Navy to do the universe some good she would take it. But as she lifted the fabric to show the side of her body she thought against it.

“What happens if you deem my tattoo…’worthy’?”

“Do not think of it as worthy or unworthy. There is no wrong way to create artwork, but there is a difference between scribbling and a masterpiece. I can respect both in this sense. I am more curious than anything to see what a young woman as yourself would choose to permanently stain your skin with prior to entering a facility that thrives on monotony. What makes you different.”

“You avoided my question.”

“You will be provided a permit. Therefore you no longer need to sneak around the community showers late at night like a cadet would.” Again, the corners of his mouth held a ghost of a smile. Was he testing you?

“I understand if you reject my invitation and would prefer the immediate removal from my ship. You have already admitted to breaking the rules.”

She could start from the ground up, or continue in her current position, and all she had to do was show her tattoo willingly? She glanced at her shoes, unsure of she had the gumption to strip in front of her superior officer. True, he couldn’t make her, legally but, he sure knew how to make it uncomfortable if she didn’t.

“Very well, I will prepare the paperwork for your dismissal-”

“Wait. I will show you, but I just because I show you doesn’t mean I want your judgement on what I decided to have done.”

“Of course. I’ll keep my critique to a minimum.” Thrawn said, leaning back in his chair as she carefully removed button after button from their holes, exposing her white undershirt. She slipped off her green tunic off, and folded it neatly, placing it on the desk. She went back to standing attention, awaiting his silent criticism. “Your undershirt as well, Lieutenant.” She couldn’t see his expression in the dim light of the room, but she saw his eyes squinting slightly, taking her in. She felt heat rise in her cheeks yet again, as she slipped the undershirt up and off.

Her tattoo’s spanned from the bottom of her left collar bone all the way down to mid-thigh. She had enough sense to cover her chest and held her pants up to cover the rest, while Commodore Thrawn leaned forward, his eyes roaming and inspecting the artwork. 

“Come closer.”

“Excuse me?” She stopped herself again. “-sir.” 

“It's too intricate to not view in a closer scale. Would you be able to read a fine document from across the room?”

“I see,” she said, letting a shaky breath escape her. She stood nearly tangibly close to him. He leaned forward carefully looking at the details.

More heat radiated from her face, but the tension in her fingers told him that every ounce of her being was uncomfortable with him being nearer.

“May I?” he asked. “I’m intrigued as to the line work you chose.”

“...Sure.” Her voice is full of suspicion but her tension fades quickly. “I designed it myself. I managed to hide it over the years with various methods, mostly by using a color correction paste, although it wasn’t waterproof.”

“Interesting. You can tell a lot about the way a culture and their history based on the design of their lines. Long periods of passive allegiance followed by brief conflicts and another new leadership look similar to the pattern of curves interrupted by start lines or angles. Color palettes mirror the emotional and ethical aspects that the community deals with. It is the same with people.”

“So, are you a fortune teller now?”

“Not necessarily. I’ve learned to read the patterns in history and art. They are one in the same to me is all.” Thrawn raised his hands, gently grazing his thumb over her side. She flinches, but eases into his touch as though she were testing the tepidness of water. “Here, where you chose purples and deep blues to represent the star systems of your homeworld, you have a great sadness for leaving there. These lines are heavy and dark, because they are your solid foundation. If I fire you, you would return here.” His hand moved down over her thigh. Her body stance showed stiffness, but not discomfort at his touch.

“Here, you chose green and yellows - it was a last minute decision. You were apprehensive about this tattoo, for good reason.” His fingers again barely grazed her skin, sending a small shiver up her spine and goosebumps down her arms. His face changed to that of a minute snarl. “They rushed the job, and the infection faded the lines.”

“I couldn’t really help that,” she said,

“Do you think I am displeased with the way your body has healed?”

“Well...your expression...” Her face brightens with red. “And your hand’s position are both ironic.”

“Are they?” He stood, towering over her now by a few inches. His red eyes were unnerving at first, but they had a sense of mystery, of Wild Space. Chiss were unusually rare to see in the universe. Thrawn was the only Chiss she had heard about, aside from legends she thought might be myths before Commodore had proved some of them to be true within his stay in the Imperial Navy.

“Here,” his hand traced the lines just below her collarbone, “-was the first tattoo you had. Underhanded, and done cheaply. You regretted it, and covered it up. Only to add to it,” his fingers traced the lines, she had etched on paper ages ago, down her side, “-over the years.” She stifled a shudder from his light appraising touch. Was this how he looked at murals? Paintings? His fingers grazing over the paint strokes - eager to learn more, greedy even.

Her gaze had not left him the entire time. She hesitated, her body rigid with a newer emotion.

“You gathered all that from a few lines?”

“Yes. Partly from the line work you drew yourself. Partly from your files. Though there was no mention of tattoo’s in it.”

“Oh. You must have found it terrible dull.”

“Incorrect. I found it most interesting. Amusing even.” He was inches from her now, and his hand hadn’t left her neck. Instead she found him holding her gently, and she felt a faint tinge of sweat on his thumb as it grazed her cheek. “You’ve chosen splendidly, Lieutenant.”

“So you approve? Of my tattoo?”

“Yes,” he let a small rumble roll from his throat, she felt it vibrate through her body. “Very much so.”

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction written in appreciation of Star Wars; to promote the Star Wars franchise and to keep it alive. All characters and settings original to the Star Wars movies and/or novelizations are copyright to Lucasfilm, Ltd. The rest is copyright to the story's author. No profit was gained from this story.


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